


(It's A Long, Long Way) From There To Here

by bananasandroses (achuislemochroi)



Series: Whofic [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Season/Series 03, Tenth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-02
Updated: 2008-05-02
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/bananasandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How on earth has he ended up like this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	(It's A Long, Long Way) From There To Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel (of sorts) to [_I Had This Friend_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3224006). The title is amended slightly from a line in the song _From Clare to Here_ by Ralph McTell.

How on earth has he ended up like this?

The situation's farcical; he can't see a way out of this that won't make Martha think he's giving in, giving something of himself that he _really_ isn't willing to part with. Her only crime is not being _her_ – but he’s still so deeply in love with _her_ that to him it’s almost as if no-one else exists.

He misses _her_ so very much that he persistently dreams of _her_ , night after night: the dreams are torture. He cannot get the memories of what he and _she_ shared together out of his mind (his treacherous body is decidedly not on his side either, that much is clear), which is bad enough – but in the dreams he relives the memories in glorious, vicious detail: can feel _her_ body under his, can touch _her_ properly.

It's sweet, sweet agony.

Most of the time he's had to choose, on waking, between bringing himself to orgasm (if he closes his eyes, he can just about fool himself into thinking that it's _her_ hand that closes around his erection, _her_ fingers sliding along its length …) – or being in a state of arousal long enough for it to become painful. The rock and the hard place, to use a human phrase – and the irony of the unintended pun is not lost on him.

He feels ashamed, increasingly often, of himself for being unable to rein in these more human needs; finds that in doing something about it to relieve the pressure he feels almost as if he is being untrue to the woman he's lost but whom he loves more than anything. And still the images of _her_ torment him.

He finds himself sleeping more often than usual these days, too – just to relive the sight of _her_ in the throes of their passion is vastly more appealing on several levels than to face the emptiness of his waking life without her. The dreams, like the images, are intensifying. There's only so much of this that any sane person can be expected to tolerate before they snap. He isn't exactly at breaking-point at the moment, it's true – but he's not exactly a million miles from it, either. Just because he's a Time Lord, that doesn't mean he doesn't have the same needs others have, thank-you-very-much.

Of course it isn’t just the physical satiation he misses now he’s lost her; he suspects, shallow as it might sound, that he might well have found it easier to cope with had she been nothing but a sexual partner. He might have found it easier to process her loss, to do what appears to be expected of him and "get over" her.

(Although exactly why Martha thinks that her having a crush on him – yes, it's obvious enough that even _he_ , politely oblivious as he is trying to be, can see it – gives her any particular rights in that area mystifies him, frankly. He likes her well enough, but she isn't _her_ – and that means he isn't interested in her _that_ way.)

But thinking about Martha isn't solving his problem (although he's made sure – he thinks – that her bedroom is as far away from his as is practical. And equally far away from _her_ room – which appears to have become his by default these days, he spends so much of his time there), and thinking about all the things that _she_ had been to him certainly isn't helping, either.

He feels absurdly young again – but at the same time so very, _very_ old – as he thinks, rather wryly, of how none of this would even have been an issue if _she_ was still with him. And his hand is a very, _very_ poor substitute for _her … oh, Rassilon_.

He doesn't know what to do.


End file.
